


Piece o' My Heart

by Cheree_Cargill



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1970's, Consensual Sex, Dallas setting, F/M, Girlfriends - Freeform, Infidelity, Janis Joplin - Freeform, Motorcycles, Peace march, Romance, anti-Vietnam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:23:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheree_Cargill/pseuds/Cheree_Cargill
Summary: Set in 1970's Dallas, Texas, Cyndi is a naïve high school student, raised in a small, conservative town.  Her best friend, Laurie, is "white trash" and looked down on because her divorced mother brings home "boyfriends" on a regular basis.  This time she picks up a long-haired and very sexy biker named Bo.  Both girls fall in love with him and Cyndi is launched into an adult world she's not ready for.





	Piece o' My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original story by Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2019 by Cheree Cargill. ("Piece o' My Heart" written by Jerry Ragovoy & Bert Berns; performed by Big Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin, album "Cheap Thrills", 1968.)
> 
> Much of this story is autobiographical, although I won't say what. The three main characters are based on real people and there is much that took place in Dallas during this time in history that I was part of. Again, I won't say what. This story is different from any other that I've written and it was written with an eye to professional publishing. I could never find a venue for it and only a couple of people have ever read it. Hope you enjoy it and it brings back some memories.

When I was seventeen, Janis Joplin died.

It was an early October evening in 1970 when my phone rang right after suppertime and my best friend, Laurie Morris, asked shakily, "Did you hear the news? Janis died!"

"What?" I responded stupidly, more rattled by Laurie's emotional turmoil than anything. "When?"

"It was on the news -- Janis died yesterday."

"How?"

"They said she OD'ed on heroin or something. They found her dead. She was only 27."

"Well, it was bound to happen," I answered philosophically. "I mean, when you drink and do drugs as hard as she did..."

Laurie was silent for a bit then asked, "Can you come over?"

I closed my eyes and sighed quietly. I didn't really feel like dealing with one of Laurie's moods but would have felt guilty at refusing her. "Okay," I finally said. "But I can't stay too long. I've got homework to do."

I hung up and went to get my black and gold school jacket. I had lettered in basketball last year and proudly wore this symbol of school spirit. Not everyone had one.

"I'm going over to Laurie's," I called to my mother, who was at the sink, washing dishes.

She looked around at me with a slightly aggrieved expression. "I don't like you hanging around that Morris girl, Cyndi," she answered. "You don't know what all goes on over there."

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Mom. You think they have orgies or something? Gimme a break. Just because Mrs. Morris is divorced."

"Angie Morris is trash and I don't like you going over there."

"Mom, Laurie and I have been best friends since second grade. Nothing goes on. We're just gonna listen to records. That's all. I'll be back after while."

With that, I slid my jacket on and pushed open the back screen, stepping out into the early evening. Stars already peppered the sky and a gentle breeze stirred the trees, sending down a light shower of yellowed leaves. It was still too early in the autumn for many leaves to have fallen, but they would soon. There was a tangible bite to the air.

Laurie only lived a block over from me and in those days nobody thought twice about walking around after dark. I went across the back lawn, cut through a neighbor's yard to the street behind ours, then walked up the sidewalk to the small frame house set behind two scraggly mimosa trees. They were still scattered with the last of summer's pale pink flowers, looking like small bedraggled pom-poms. I could smell their faint perfume on the night air.

Mrs. Morris' car wasn't there, meaning she'd probably gone to Dallas for some beer or to a honky-tonk or something. Laurie's mom had divorced her husband when she caught him with one of the waitresses from the truck stop, but -- truth be told, she was probably lucky that he hadn't caught one of her indiscretions first. They were both pretty wild. Laurie's older sister had left home as soon as she could manage it, so now Laurie lived with just her mother and any of her mother's boyfriends who happened to be shacked up there at the time. I once asked Laurie if any of these men ever came on to her and she looked at me like I was crazy. "Well, use your head, dumb-butt," she answered sarcastically. "You think I'm a virgin or something?"

I shut up and just made sure that I never went over there when it was obvious Mrs. Morris had company.

Laurie answered my knock on the door and I could smell liquor on her as we went back to her room. I knew she kept a bottle of Southern Comfort hidden at the back of her closet. It was Janis Joplin's favorite drink. The lights were out and the only illumination came from the blacklight that turned the posters on her walls into three dimensional sculptures. Not surprisingly, Joplin's rough, soulful voice was wailing from the stereo speakers.

" _\--Come on -- take another little piece o' m' heart, now, baby-- Break it! Break another little bit o' m' heart now, yeah--_ "

Laurie looked awful. She flopped down on her unmade bed and put her arm over her eyes. "Shit," she said succinctly.

I moved some clothes out of the rocking chair by her bed and settled back in it, propped one foot up, and waited. For a while, we just listened to the stereo.

" _Well, you know you got it, child, when it makes you feel good,_ " cried Janis to the cacophonous backup of Big Brother and the Holding Company.

I closed my eyes and let the music surround me. Laurie had turned me on to Janis over a year before and, while I wasn't the devotee that Laurie was, there was something deep inside me that stirred when I heard Joplin sing. Years later I realized what it was. When Janis performed, she reached down her throat and dragged out her soul, kicking and screaming, and flung it raw and bloody for the world to see. The tragedy was that, afterwards, she tried to put it back with a needle in her arm or a slug of whiskey. It got harder and harder and finally no amount of horse or speed or booze would do it, and she died trying.

"I can't believe she's gone," Laurie said, breaking my reverie.

"Yeah, it's kind of weird. Jimi Hendrix two weeks ago and now Janis. But I'm not surprised," I answered. "She was really messed up."

Laurie took her arm away from her eyes and glared at me accusingly. "I loved Janis," she retorted.

"Laurie, come on -- she was a drug addict and an alcoholic."

"Doesn't make any difference. She was a beautiful human being and I loved her."

"You make it sound like you knew her personally."

"Well, I feel like I did. I've always felt this ... kinship with her. We went through a lot of the same things."

"Yeah, right," I replied. "Like what?"

"You know ... like both of us being outcasts at school."

"She was an outcast because she was a freak. You just don't fit in because--" I shut up before I said something I would have regretted.

"Because what? Because I'm white trash? Because I'm a slut? Well, so was Janis. Why don't you go ahead and say it?"

"Shit," I muttered, starting to get up. "I didn't come over here to get in a fight with you. I'm going home."

"No, don't -- please." Her manner changed from belligerence to pleading. "I don't want to be alone right now. You want a drink?" She was fumbling with a bottle that sat on the floor by her bed.

"And let my mother smell it as soon as I walked in the door? No thanks!" But I sat back down.

"Well, I could use another one." She held up the squarish bottle of liquor. "Southern Comfort! What Janis drinks -- drank." She poured a little into a glass and put the top back on the liquor bottle. Then, settling back once again, she sipped at the amber fluid. "Put on _Kozmic Blues_ ," she instructed. "I like that one."

Obediently, I got up and took the LP out of its jacket and settled it onto the spindle of the stereo, flipping the little lever so that the automatic changer would drop the album down onto the turntable. I didn't like this album as much as _Cheap Thrills_. It just didn't have the throbbing, primal energy of the Big Brother album.

As I settled back down into my chair, Laurie looked at me speculatively. "Do people say I'm a whore?" she asked.

That caught me off guard. "Well, uh-- No, of course not."

"I am, you know," she answered, taking another drink but not taking her eyes off me.

"Oh, no, surely--"

"Sometimes when Mom's gone, I let her boyfriends fuck me. I've been having sex since I was fourteen." I could feel my face reddening at this unexpected turn in the conversation and Laurie seemed pleased at my reaction. "It's not so bad. In fact, it feels pretty damned good sometimes. I nearly ran off with Eddie last year, before Mom kicked him out for stealing from her." She took another sip and moved her gaze to the cracked ceiling. "Yeah, Eddie was pretty damned good. Man, he could fuck like nobody's business..."

Abruptly, she swung back to face me. "You know, Janis said something once, that you never quite remembered an orgasm but you never quite forgot it either."

I was squirming uncomfortably. "Come on, Laurie, quit being vulgar. Let's talk about something else."

She smirked. "You don't know. You're still a virgin. But it ain't bad like they teach you. In fact, it feels pretty good to curl up against somebody and not be so lonely."

She lay back on the bed and gazed at the ceiling again, her voice softening. "That was really Janis' problem, you know. Loneliness. She was so lonely inside and she tried to fill it up with booze and pills and men, but it was still there. You can hear it in her songs. She doesn't sing rock 'n roll ... she sings the blues."

"I suppose..."

Laurie lit a cigarette and drew on it in a preoccupied manner. "It's there in all of us. We spend our whole lives trying to fill that emptiness. Some of us succeed ... some of us don't. My mom's trying. That's why she keeps bringing home these sorry-assed men. Trying to find someone to take my Dad's place. But she never will. And, anyway, he was just doing the same thing when she caught him screwing Tina. She shoulda understood that but she couldn't take the guilt." She drew down another drag and let the smoke hang in the air between us.

I didn't know what to say so I just sat there and let her talk.

"It gets so heavy sometimes that it nearly crushes you," she whispered. "I really did love Eddie but he was Mom's and she'd kill me if she found out I'd been messing around with her man. I know he wasn't good for anything but he cared about me and I didn't hurt so much when he was around. Sometimes that's all it takes... Just knowing that somebody cares. I don't think Janis ever knew that."

"She had her family," I offered. "Surely they loved her."

Laurie shrugged. "Who can tell?   They say they do, but you're never sure."

"I'm sure."

She turned piercing brown eyes on me for a long moment. "You're lucky then," she said at last. "I'm not. Sure, I mean. I never have been with Mom. I think I was a mistake. I think she got pregnant and didn't want to." Her eyes swam suddenly and she leaned forward. "Cyn, I don't think my Dad is my dad. I think she got pregnant by one of her boyfriends and passed me off as Dad's baby." She began to cry. "Cyn, I don't know who I am!"

"Oh, come on, Laurie," I answered, shaken but trying for bravura. "You're _you_! And of course Dave is your father. What makes you think he's not?"

She wiped her eyes. "I overheard my folks arguing once. Dad said something about 'that damned bastard of yours' and mentioned some guy's name. Mom got really mad and upset and they got into a huge fight. I'm sure they were talking about me."

"Oh, you probably misunderstood what they were talking about," I replied, trying to get things back to a more neutral topic. "You look just like him, for Pete's sake."

"I suppose..." She wiped her eyes again and subsided, taking a last drag on the cigarette and crushing it out into the ashtray by her bedside. "I'm bad, I know it," she said, gesturing at the butts in the ashtray. "But Mom doesn't care as long as I don't steal hers." She looked back up at me, something of the old sparkle in her eyes. "You ever smoked a joint?"

"You know I don't smoke anything," I responded, shocked again and feeling my inadequacies show. "You know I'm a good little Baptist."

She laughed at that. "Oh, yeah, right. And your folks'd have a cow if they knew what I know about you."

"And what's that?"

"Oh, come on, Cyn. You told me once that you used to go by the boys' locker room after football games hoping you'd see some of them naked. And that you once saw Danny Reed peeing back of the stadium and it turned you on."

"I did not!"

"What? See him peeing or get turned on by it?"

"Either one!" I looked away, embarrassed, rocking the chair furiously.

She laughed again and then her voice softened. "You don't have to be ashamed by it, Cyn. It's a normal reaction."

I didn't say anything for a few minutes then answered softly, "I know. And you're wrong about something. I'm not a virgin either."

"What?!" That startled her.

"I saw Danny peeing because I was down there with him. Somebody had some beer after one of the games and I got a little drunk and went down there with Danny. We got to necking and, well, one thing led to another. You know."

The smile on her face was pensive. "Yeah, I do know. That's sort of how it was my first time. It wasn't with any one of these assholes Mom brings home. You remember when Darlene was going with Jack?   Well, one time he brought a buddy with him, a guy named Mike, and we all went to the drive-in. They were necking and getting it on in the front seat and Mike and me were in the back. He leaned over and started kissing me and, before I knew it, his hand was up under my dress. I nearly made him quit but it felt so good that I just let him keep going. I got so turned on that I let him take my panties off and the next thing I knew he was on top of me and I didn't stop him." She paused and her face turned sad again. "Afterwards, he bought me a Coke. I remember sitting there feeling magical, like I was finally a woman and that something wonderful had happened to me. But he never came back anymore with Jack and I never heard from him again."

She retrieved the Southern Comfort bottle and poured herself another drink. "I felt dirty then. You know, like they used to say. I'd been 'ruined'. I'd always thought it would be so wonderful, a virgin on my wedding night and then my husband and me making love. I never thought it'd be in the backseat of a car at a damned drive-in." She gave a short, unamused laugh. "Slam, bam, thank ya, ma'am." The glass tipped up and she downed a long gulp.

"Geez, Laurie, take it easy," I protested.

She turned and glared at me. "Don't tell me to take it easy! It's none of your goddamn business, anyway!"

"Hey, look, you're the one who called me and asked me to come over," I said. "Anyway, I've got to go home. I've got homework to do and I need to get on it. You do, too, you know. Mrs. Willis wants those theme papers turned in Friday."

"Fuck Mrs. Willis," Laurie answered despondently. "I'm not going back to school. It's a waste of time."

"What? Are you crazy? How do you expect to get anywhere if you quit school?"

She snorted and looked back at me. "Where, f'instance? Am I gonna be a brain surgeon or astronaut or something? I'll end up waitin' tables at the truck stop or checking groceries somewhere. What do I need school for to do that?"

"You can't just give up, Laurie," I pleaded. "You don't know where life's gonna lead."

" _I_ know," she responded sadly. "Nowhere. I'll end up married to some sorry-assed old man and have twelve kids hanging on me. I don't fool myself."

I shook my head. There was no reasoning with her right now. She was too drunk on Southern Comfort and her own misery. "Look, why don't you just go to bed and get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"Okay," she mumbled and got up off the bed to go over to the stereo. The record had ended and the automatic arm had swung back and cut the machine off. Laurie removed the LP and put _Cheap Thrills_ back on. This time the hard, bluesy rhythm of "Ball and Chain" throbbed out of the speakers. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

I made my exit, leaving my friend standing by her stereo, watching the black vinyl disk revolve on the turntable.

As I went through the living room to the front door, I met Mrs. Morris coming in. Her bleached hair was swept up in a French twist and she was wearing too much makeup, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her lipstick-red mouth. She was clad in stretch pants and a silky blouse and high heels, and she had a man in tow.

He was tall and muscular, long dark hair and dark mustache in a strong face, blue eyes that latched onto me and held. He was dressed in tight jeans, boots and a t-shirt, over which he wore a blue jean jacket with the arms cut off, forming a vest. He looked like a biker and he took my breath away.

Mrs. Morris was speaking cheerily. "Why, hello, Cyndi, how nice to see you. I'd like you to meet a new friend of mine. Cyndi Webster, this is Bo Haskell."

"Hi," I said politely but nervously trying to break that hypnotic scrutiny and make my escape. "Nice to meet you."

"Hey, Cyndi," he answered and smiled, showing white teeth underneath his mustache. His voice was soft and husky. "How's it goin'?"

"Okay," I replied noncommittally, still held by his commanding eyes. They were eyes you could sink into and drown. Or maybe they were the eyes of a snake that held its victim immobile just before it struck. I couldn't tell which but I was rooted to the spot and couldn't seem to breathe. I realized I was trembling and, with an effort, broke the contact, looking back at Mrs. Morris. "I ̶ I've really gotta go. I've got homework... 'Bye."

"Of course, dear," she said in dismissal and turned back to the living room, calling to her daughter. "Laurie, come see who I met at the liquor store!"

As I slipped out the door, I couldn't help looking back at him and I saw that he was watching me, too. It didn't help still my pounding heart.

* * *

Laurie did come to school the next day, although she was late and looked like she hadn't slept much. I saw her between classes getting a book out of her locker.

"Man, you look awful," I said and saw her wince.

"Jeez, I got a headache like you wouldn't believe."

"Did you take anything for it?"

"Yeah, some aspirin, but I don't know if they're gonna stay down. I shoulda stayed at home in bed. I may cut and go home anyway."

"Well, that's what you get from drinking that stuff," I said softly. "Say, who was that guy with your mother last night?"

"Some biker she picked up at the Beer Barn. Name's Bo."

"Yeah, she introduced us. He looks kinda young for your mom."

Laurie shrugged. "I don't know. I figure he's 24 or 25."

"But you're mom's ancient. God, she must be 40."

"She's 36. That's not so old."

"It's pretty old," I answered.

Laurie shrugged, again, and closed her locker door. The hustle and bustle in the hallway was thinning out rapidly as kids ran for class. "Come on, the bell's gonna ring any minute."

We started for English class. "Did he spend the night?" I asked, burning with curiosity.

"Well, sure," she retorted as if I were some sort of moron. "Why d'you think Mom brings 'em home?"

"Doesn't that bother you, Laurie?"

She shrugged again indifferently. "That's Mom's business. Anyway, I don't mind. He's kinda cute, isn't he?"

It was my turn to feign indifference. "I guess. Pretty grungy, though. Yuck."

The bell startled us with its harsh jangling and we bolted through the classroom door and to our seats before it finished its summons. I had trouble keeping my mind on intransitive verbs, though. In the back of my mind, I kept picturing Bo's muscular frame moving in bed with Laurie's mother.

* * *

As the autumn progressed, my life settled into a cycle of school and activities. I dated occasionally and went to football games, did homework and saw Laurie whenever I could. Sometimes when I went to her house, Bo would be there, mostly just watching TV and drinking beer.

He drifted in and out of my peripheral life and I grew accustomed to seeing him there. He always gave me a smile and an appraising glance but I never felt that magnetic pull of the first meeting, although I remained wary when he was around.

One afternoon after school, I went by Laurie's house so we could study together for a history test. Although it was late October, Indian summer still hung on, the temperature high enough to be pleasantly hot without being overwhelming. I was wearing shorts and a school sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows, white socks and tennis shoes, whose soles made no noise as I came up the concrete driveway. I didn't necessarily want to make any noise, for Bo was there hunkered down with his back to me, tinkering with something on his motorcycle, and he hadn't seen me yet. Uncertainty struggled inside me, apprehension and attraction battling for supremacy.

I stood silently, taking in the curve of his back and the muscles of his shoulders, the tanned, corded forearms and hands as he worked. Pulled back into a loose ponytail, his dark hair fell almost midway down his back, and his jeans hugged his long legs even tighter as he knelt beside the motorcycle.

It was a big bike, a Harley-Davidson Sportster, Bo's pride and joy. Laurie had told me that he'd bought it as a basket case the summer before and had spent hours restoring it. I had to admit he'd done a beautiful job. Chromed, chopped and cherry red, it was as pretty a bike as ever came off a showroom floor.

He leaned forward and his t-shirt slid up with the motion, exposing a strip of bare skin above the belt line of his low riding jeans. I could see the demarcation line of tanned and light skin on his buttocks.

I must have made a small sound for he whipped around to look at me, startled, but this expression immediately changed to one of recognition and I saw pleasure flash on his face.

He rose evenly to his feet, coiled muscles stretching out with oiled smoothness, and smiled. "Hi, Cyndi. Didn't hear you come up."

"I ... I didn't want to disturb you," I answered, a little uncomfortable to be alone with him. I had seen his eyes flick down to my legs then back to my face. Self-consciously, I brushed back my long blonde hair from my face and saw that the action had caused the intensity in his blue eyes to deepen minutely as he watched me.

"Um ... is Laurie here?" I asked, shifting the books I cradled in my arms.

"Yeah, she's in her room, I think."

"I ... uh, we're going to study together," I stammered. His solid masculinity nearly overwhelming, he was like no one I had ever known. Compared to the boys I knew and dated, he was a barely-reined stallion among placid children's ponies.

"That's great," he said softly.

"Yeah..." I murmured. "Uh ... I like your bike. It looks really good. A friend of mine's got a Suzuki."

Bo snorted in contempt. "Japanese piece of shit. Nothing but a runaway sewing machine," he stated.

He sauntered to the Sportster and swung a leg over it, so that he stood astride it. Bringing it upright, he flipped the key, stood on the starter pedal and jacked it a couple of times until the engine caught. Then, grinning, he slowly twisted the throttle and opened up the throat of his beast.

The Harley roared like a freight train and rattled windows a block away. Bo revved it a couple of times to get the full effect, then shut off the engine. Silence fell like a blanket.

The lop-sided, satisfied smirk still lifting the corners of his mustache, he announced, "Now ... _that's_ a motorcycle!"

Laurie came flying out of the front door and stood on the porch, glaring at him in disbelief. "What the _hell_ are you doing?!" she demanded. "You want Mrs. Howe next door to call the cops?"

Bo let the bike go back onto its kickstand, then shrugged, crossed his arms and leaned insolently back against the sissy bar. He propped one leg up over the gas tank with his other foot on the cement, and I gulped, trying not to stare at what that did to the crotch of his jeans. But he wasn't even noticing my reaction, still addressing Laurie.

"So, since when's it illegal to work on a motorcycle in your own driveway?"

She was fuming and came down the steps to stand before him. "In the first place, it's not _your_ driveway. And in the second place, that old bitch Howe would just love to find a reason to get the fuzz out here. What'd'ya think they'd find if they decided to come in with a search warrant and take a good look around?"

He backed down a little bit. "Okay, Laurie, don't bust a gut. I'll cool it."

Satisfied at her victory, Laurie tossed her head and turned her back on him. "Come on, Cyn. You want a Coke or something?"

"Yeah, sure," I answered distractedly. I was still looking in amazement at Bo, lounging comfortably on the Harley, and he grinned and winked at me as I followed Laurie into the house.

* * *

Halloween and Thanksgiving rolled past and winter slammed in with an iron-fisted blow, stripping the remaining leaves from the trees, chasing activities indoors, and blowing thin flurries of snow about like mystical curtains of lace.

I was crazy with cabin fever. It had been too cold to get out and do anything and I had seen the inside of my room for too many hours. Restless, I decided to brave the snow and jog over to Laurie's to see if she wanted to listen to records. I'd just gotten Rod Stewart's latest and, in addition, I took along my Jethro Tull, Led Zepplin, and Santana albums. I thought she needed a change from her perennial Joplin. God, she must've worn those records out by now. They were getting so scratchy it was hard to listen to them.

The mimosa trees were barren now and rattled their slender branches in the northerly wind. I pulled my stocking cap down closer over my ears and huddled deeper into my fringed leather jacket as a gust of snow crystals swirled into my face.

Angie's car wasn't in the driveway -- she'd been working a second job for Christmas money -- but I could hear muted music playing somewhere in the house. I knocked on the door, waited and knocked again. I walked around to the back porch and knocked insistently on the wooden door. When there was again no answer, I tried the knob. It turned easily and I pushed it open. The kitchen was deliciously warm, heat radiating from a gas space heater over by the stove, the little blue jets of flame crackling determinedly against the clay backtiles.

"Hello!" I called. "Laurie! It's me!"

She didn't appear right away and I closed the door against the cold, calling again, "Laurie? Anybody home?"

A series of sounds issued from the direction of Laurie's room and she suddenly appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped in her bathrobe, barefoot and furious, her hair disarrayed and spilling over her shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" she demanded.

I blinked and backed up, trying to make sense of her appearance. "Uh, you didn't answer the front door and--"

"I was busy!"

"Busy?" My mind was still whirling.

"Are you totally brain dead or what?" she hissed and threw open her bathrobe to reveal her nudity underneath, then quickly closed it again. "Understand? Now get out!"

Mortified and hurt, I quickly retreated through the back door and she slammed it. I heard the lock click into place. The north wind stinging tears from the corners of my eyes, I trudged back around to the front sidewalk, only now noticing Bo's motorcycle parked behind the garage.

My gaze swung automatically to Laurie's bedroom window and I knew clearly what I had interrupted. I wondered if Mrs. Morris had any idea and how she would take it. Maybe he was doing them both, I decided uncharitably.

* * *

I was so fidgety from the incident that I called up my current steady, Ricky Cook, and asked him to take me to the movies that evening. We were walking out to his truck when I heard my name called and looked up to see Bo standing at the side of the garage, the fur-lined collar of his black leather jacket turned up against the cold and his hands jammed into his pockets.

"Who's that?" Ricky demanded of me, not liking Bo's looks one bit.

"It's okay," I assured him. "I know him. Just a minute." I went over to him, annoyed. "What do you want?"

Bo kept his voice down, obviously not intending for Ricky to hear our conversation. "Look," he said, a bit uncomfortably, "I want to apologize about this afternoon. I feel really bad about you walking in on that."

I had an angry speech all ready but I lost my momentum. "Uh... well, I'm sorry about it, too. I shouldn't have come in uninvited."

One side of Bo's mouth turned up in a sheepish grin and I was suddenly captivated by the way the edge of his mustache played against the curve of his lips. When he smiled, a little dimple appeared just at the corner of his mouth.

"You scared the crap out of us, you know," he said, his eyes twinkling. "We thought you were Angie coming in."

I laughed despite myself and was held by the searching look he gave me, his mouth still pulled into a half-smile. His lips were full and soft-looking and the wind blew strands of his long, dark hair around his face.

Behind us, Ricky pointedly cleared his throat. I blinked and dropped my gaze from Bo's. "Well, I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

Bo glanced up at Ricky waiting impatiently and said to me, "I'm keeping you from something. I just wanted to apologize and say I hope you won't hold it against Laurie. She cried for an hour after you left. She feels terrible about how she acted."

I shrugged, uncomfortable. "Tell her to call me tomorrow. It's okay. But I gotta go."

"Okay, babe. Take care."

I looked back up at him quickly, my heart suddenly thudding, then turned towards Ricky, glancing back once to see Bo disappearing in the direction of Laurie's house.

"What's going on?" Rick inquired tightly.

"Oh, that's just a friend of Laurie's. Some friend of her mom's. He was just asking me ... uh ... what Laurie wanted for Christmas." It wasn't a very good lie and Ricky fixed me with a skeptical gaze.

"Okay," he responded, going along with it. "But I don't think he better be talking to you anymore. What is he -- some kind of hippie or something?"

I stopped in my tracks. "What's that supposed to mean? And why shouldn't I talk to him?"

"It means I don't want you talking to him anymore. Can I make it any plainer than that?"

"I'll talk to anybody I darn well please."

"He's some kind of long-haired hippie doper," Ricky replied forcefully. "I don't want you hanging around somebody like that."

I could feel my face flushing with anger. "Stop treating me like you owned me, Rick. Because you don't! And, anyway, as of right now, we're not even going together anymore!" I yanked his class ring off my finger and shoved it toward him, where he caught it in startled reaction.

"What? But you wanted to go the movies--"

"I'm not going anywhere with somebody who treats me like a thing!"

I whirled and ran back into the house, all the emotions of the day breaking through to the surface.

* * *

Life settled back into its usual drone.   Laurie and I made up and the incident with Bo was forgotten. Outwardly, anyway, but sometimes at night I lay in my bed and thought about them, wondering what it would feel like to have a man -- to have _Bo_ \-- make love to me, to feel his breath upon my face, to taste the flavor of his mouth, to be pressed down into the mattress by his weight. The quick tryst with Danny Reed had faded in my memory until I wondered if it had actually happened at all or if it had simply been an alcohol-induced fantasy I had let myself believe.

Bo was different. Sexual power fairly radiated from him, accentuated by the way his jeans hugged his hips and legs, outlining every curve, by the way his dark brows sometimes lowered over those hypnotic eyes, almost sinister in their appearance, by the way he sat astride his Harley, dominating it as a master would a living being.

On bad nights, I hugged my pillow against my face and moaned into it, aching for him, knowing I couldn't have him. It made something inside of me throb with want and I let the pillowcase soak up my frustrated tears until I finally fell asleep.

* * *

My 18th birthday came in early March and that weekend Laurie borrowed her mom's car to take me out to eat in celebration. We went to a special place at the mall where the waiters sang and created spectacular ice cream desserts and generally made a ruckus over anyone having a birthday. I was pleasantly embarrassed as they all lined up and serenaded me while presenting the Triple Hot Fudge Flaming Decadence that I had ordered. There were birthday candles stuck at ridiculous angles in the ice cream and I had to blow them out in front of everybody.

After the waiters had departed and the other patrons had turned back to their own meals, Laurie settled down to her banana split and I tackled the huge mound of ice cream, fudge and whipped cream that threatened to topple right out of the dish and onto the table.

"I'll never eat all this!" I declared.

"Well, just eat what you want. It's your birthday, after all."

We worked at it silently for a few minutes then Laurie put down her spoon and said, "I have something else for you." She reached into her purse and pulled out a small package.

I opened it eagerly and was delighted to find inside a thin silver cuff-type bracelet with a seagull engraved on it, its wings outspread to form the bands of the bracelet. "Oh, it's beautiful!" I exclaimed and slipped it onto my right wrist.

"It's a friendship bracelet," Laurie answered somewhat shyly. "It's Jonathan Livingston Seagull."

"I love it! Thank you!" I reached over to squeeze her hand. "You're the best, Laurie. I don't know what I'd do without you!"

"Well, it's not much," she shrugged, embarrassed. "But I thought you'd like it."

"I do. Thanks. I really mean it."

We turned back to our desserts and Laurie asked, "What did your folks get you?"

"Oh, some clothes. That new Zepplin album I wanted. Dad gave me $50 but told me not to blow it all. He expects at least half of it to go into my college fund."

"Bummer. It's your money, isn't it? You should be able to spend it like you want."

I shrugged. "Well, he's right. They're helping me with my tuition the first couple of years, but I gotta save up the rest. Dad says if I work for my education, I'll appreciate it more."

"Where are you going?"

"Just Dallas County Junior College at first. I can't afford U.T. Austin for all four semesters. Anyway, it doesn't make any difference. You gotta take the same courses the first two years, no matter where you go."

Laurie smiled. "Janis Joplin went to U.T. in Austin, you know. That's where she got her start."

"Yeah, I know. Where are you going to school?"

She was silent and poked at her ice cream. "I'm not going to school. I'm not graduating. I'll probably quit before too long."

"What? Come on, Laurie, we've had this discussion before. We're so close to graduation! You can't drop out now."

"Oh, Cyn, don't you get it?" she sighed disparagingly. "I'm flunking out anyway. The teachers hate me and are giving me bad grades."

"Oh, come on now," I protested. "You're just not studying enough."

She shook her head. "You just don't understand. I hate school and I'm just no good at it. Anyway, I'll be 18 next month and then I'm gonna marry Bo."

I nearly dropped my spoon. I didn't know what to say for a moment. "That's great!" I finally answered, not really meaning it. "When did he ask you?"

"Well ... we just sort of decided."

"Does your Mom know?"

"Hell, no! And we're not going to tell her until after we do it!" Laurie glanced around to see if anyone was looking at her, then leaned forward and continued in a low voice, "Shit, she'd kill both of us! She still thinks Bo's got the hots for _her_. But he doesn't. He's even stopped coming around and tells her he's been working overtime, just so he won't have to see her."

"Oh, Laurie..." I was at a loss for words at this impending disaster. "Why..."

She sat back in her seat and stared at me inscrutably. "Because I love him, Cyn. And because I can't stand living with my mother anymore. I'm miserable. I want to get out."

"Well ... I wish you both the best of luck," I said, a tight knot of misery hardening inside me.

The melting ice cream was tasteless and sickening, and I put my spoon down. "Let's get out of here. I feel like shopping."

* * *

Laurie did quit school and I saw her less and less as the end of the semester neared and I was caught up with basketball and yearbook and prom and the other activities that keep the inmates quiet. Then there was final exams and baccalaureate and, at last, graduation night. I was eleventh in my class and proudly posed in my cap and gown in front of the school symbol as my dad shot up half a role of film.

As a graduation present, my folks gave me a used Dodge Dart. Not exactly the hottest wheels on the road, but it ran and it was mine! I looked forward to a carefree summer before I started college in the fall.

Laurie had turned 18 late in April, but she and Bo waited until June before slipping off to Dallas and being wed before a justice of the peace.

I found out when I received a call from her one evening. "Cyndi? Guess what? We did it!"

"Huh? Oh! Well, congratulations! When?"

"Saturday afternoon. We didn't want anyone to know. We've sort of been on our honeymoon."

"Well, great. Where did you go?"

"Just back to Bo's apartment." She laughed. "It sure needs a woman's touch! I've spent half my time cleaning it up!"

"Laurie ... how did your mother take it?"

There was silence on the other end of the line then a shaky sigh. "God, I thought she'd have a stroke. I've never seen her so mad in my life." Her voice trembled. "Cyn, she went back to my room and got my clothes and threw them out the back door into the yard. Then my shoes and records ... everything I had." There was a catch in her voice that might have been a sob. "She even ripped my posters down off the walls and threw them out. I guess ... I guess she's disowned me. We haven't spoken since then."

My heart broke for her. "Oh, Laurie, I'm so sorry. What did you do?"

"What could I do? Bo and I sorted through it, packed what we could carry in grocery bags, and brought it back here. I'm just glad I had the foresight to start moving some of my stuff over here when we first decided to get married. I guess I sort of anticipated something like this. At least I'm not totally destitute."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No. Well, yes, there is. I need to go around to garage sales this weekend and see if I can find us a couch and I don't have a car. Could you drive me around?"

"Sure, Laurie, anything you need."

"That's great. Bo's furniture isn't worth torching so we're going to start looking around for some replacement things."

"I'll be happy to. As a matter of fact, I need some things myself. I'm gonna be moving to Dallas soon."

"Oh, Cyn, that's great! Where?"

"My cousin Debbie and I are going in together for a two bedroom apartment near the college. She's working and Daddy's gonna pick up my part of the rent while I'm in school. We'll get to see each other!"

"Fantastic! I'll call you Saturday morning and we'll get together, okay?"

That was agreeable and I hung up, but there was a curious sense of loss twisting my gut that I couldn't quite sort out.

* * *

Their apartment was in sharp contrast to the clean, sunny flat my cousin and I rented. Theirs was located in a string of down-at-the-heels buildings in what had once been a grand section of Dallas. But during the 50's, the crumbling manor houses had been demolished wholesale and cheap apartments thrown up in their place. By the early 70's, they had definitely seen better days. It wasn't a section of town I'd want to be stuck in after dark.

Still, during the day, it was safe enough and I visited her as often as I could and we still had a good time, shopping a little, and talking as we always had. Laurie seemed more somber and distant than before her marriage but I attributed that to the stress of settling in to her new life. Our orbits hadn't drifted that far apart yet, but I could see that there was already a split.

I was having fun settling into my own new world. Debbie and I had found a nice two bedroom apartment in a new complex that catered to singles. There was always a party going on at the pool or clubhouse or you could find solitude strolling around the landscaped grounds. The management company kept it park-like, with manicured lawns and flower beds that changed with the seasons, and on-site security that cruised around in marked cars.

Debbie had been living on her own for a couple of years and I brought my bedroom suite with me, so we didn't need furniture, but we bought plants and candles to decorate the apartment and even splurged on a small hibachi to sit out on the tiny fenced patio.

I felt utterly liberated. Out from under my parents' direct influence for the first time, I indulged my leaning toward a more freewheeling lifestyle. I embroidered my jeans and wore sandals and let my hair grow long and straight down my back.

College started and that occupied a good bit of my time so that it was well into September before I had a chance to drive over to Bo and Laurie's apartment. I found Laurie in a despondent mood.

"It's not like I thought it would be, Cyn," she confided as we sat on opposite ends of the bedraggled couch they had found at a second hand store. She pulled on her cigarette and then tapped the ashes off into an overflowing ashtray. "He comes home dirty and tired and just wants supper. I've been sitting here all day by myself and I want to go do something. He says there's not enough money for that. His job pays the rent and buys the groceries and we make an occasional trip to the liquor store, but that's about it." She snorted bitterly. "But he sure has the time and money for that damned hog of his. Oh, yeah, if that thing needs a new part, he can sure find it."

"Well, he needs it to go to work," I replied, not sure why I was defending Bo to his wife. "And you go riding on the weekends, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. We go out on runs with his buddies. You ever been with a bunch of drunk bikers, Cyn? The fun never ends!" She drew on her cigarette, crushed it out and lit another one. "All they do is talk bikes and drink beer and show off what bad asses they are. Some of them bring their old ladies along, but I don't see any of them enough to get to know them." She buried her face in her hand. "I hate it, Cyndi. I can't stand it."

"Oh, Laurie... Don't cry." I moved over and laid my hand on her arm, being careful to avoid the lit cigarette that she held between her fingers of that hand. "You're just lonesome because you're stuck here all day with nothing to do but watch TV. Have you considered getting a job?"

"Yeah, I've looked around. I can go to work at the 7-11 if I want to, but I don't like convenience stores. You never know when somebody's gonna walk in and stick up the place."

"Well, there are other jobs," I answered, a bit half-heartedly. "You'll find something." I thought a moment then said, "I know what -- let's go to White Rock Sunday for a picnic. We'll get some chicken or something. It'll be fun. How does that sound?"

She wiped her face with her hand and looked contemplative. "Yeah, that does sound like fun. Okay. Let's do that."

We were interrupted by the sound of the latch turning in the front door and we both looked around to see Bo coming in, dirty from head to foot, his blue jean vest slung over his shoulder. His hair was tied back in a loose ponytail and he had a cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. For a second, his blue eyes darted from one of us to the other, then he said, "Hi, Cyn. Hey, baby." He sauntered over to the couch, took the Marlboro out of his mouth and kissed Laurie.

"What are you doing home so early?" she asked.

"Aw, nothin' doing down at the shop so I split and came on home." He threw his vest on the stained armchair in the corner and proceeded to peel his t-shirt off over his head, oblivious to my presence.

I couldn't take my eyes off him. His torso was cleaner than his face and arms, which bore the brunt of grime from his mechanic's job. A thatch of dark hair nestled in the valley between his pectoral muscles and cascaded down the flat plane of his stomach to his navel. His jeans rode low on his hips and I could see a hint of hair that suggested it continued a lot farther south than that. His arms were powerfully muscled, too, and I wondered at the strength stored in them. He looked like he could rip me in two without half trying. There was a tattoo of a skull and lightning bolts on his right bicep.

I realized I had been staring at him when I glanced at Laurie and found her looking at me with a strange, hostile expression. As plain as day, it told me to back off. Bo hadn't noticed and went to get a beer out of the fridge. When he came back, he lounged in the doorway to the kitchen, popped the top and took a long drink.

"Oh, yeah, that hits the spot," he sighed. He stood silent for a moment, looking back and forth at us again and his eyes seemed to linger on me for a long time. My throat tightened and I felt an answering throb in my pelvis.

But it really only lasted for a second and his eyes swung back to his wife. One side of his mustache lifted in a lazy grin. "Cyndi, why don't you run along," he said to me, still holding Laurie in his gaze. "I think three's about to be a crowd." The grin widened mischievously as he glanced back to me. "Unless you want to join us."

Hastily, I got to my feet and grabbed my purse. "No, no, I've got to be going anyway!" I stammered and made for the door. "Don't forget about Sunday afternoon, Laurie. See you."

I heard the door lock behind me and Laurie's muffled voice abruptly shut off in mid-sentence. I didn't doubt how he'd hushed her. The thought of that wide sensuous mouth smothering mine and those powerful arms crushing me against his chest-- I had to stop and shake the image off. I hurried down the stairs to my car.

* * *

The park surrounding White Rock Lake was crowded with picnickers that bright, hot autumn day, and people cruised around the perimeter road in a slow, endless procession of cars and motorcycles, some looking for a place to park under the trees, others just out riding. The small inner city lake sparkled in the clear sunlight and the light breeze was just strong enough to coax sailboats out onto the ruffled surface. A cobalt bowl of sky arched overhead, utterly cloudless.

Laurie, Bo and I had eaten our Kentucky Fried lunch at one of the stone tables by the lakeshore and then fed leftover rolls to the ducks that rode the lapping wavelets nearby, eternally seeking a handout. After a while, we vacated the table to a family and braved the traffic to trot across the two-lane street for the gentle slope of a hill overlooking the picnic area and water. Rock 'n roll reverberated from a nearby radio, tuned to an FM underground station. There were a lot of people on the hillside around us, mostly young and long-haired, all out lounging in the sun and keeping peaceably to themselves.

Bo popped the top on a beer from the cooler and stretched out his long frame in the grass as he took a pull from the can. Laurie had dozed off on the other side of him. I was feeling pretty lethargic myself and sleepily watched some kids across the road throw popcorn to the ducks and pigeons.

From the radio, a mellow tune drifted our way. " _If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair--_ "

Bo had rolled over onto his side, propped up on his elbow, and was watching me. "I can see you with flowers in your hair," he said very softly.

I turned to look at him and was suddenly aware of the picture I must be presenting to him. My long sun-streaked hair was held back from my face by a thin beaded headband across my forehead, but cascaded down my back and over my shoulders, rippling in the light breeze. I had worn a tie-dyed halter top and my usual frayed bell bottom jeans, a long, embroidered sash threaded through the belt loops. I was barefoot.

His eyes held me and I studied the emotions I saw smoldering in their depths. There was a hunger there, a hunger for me, that before might have sent me scuttling away, afraid. But, today, that fear was curiously absent. The beer I had drunk with lunch must have damped it down and smothered it, for all I felt was an answering desire for him that tightened my insides and throbbed through my soul.

Without thinking, I lay back in blatant invitation beside him, eyes half closed, hair fanning out around me, and answered him provocatively, "What sort of flowers do you see?"

The tips of his mouth quirked up as he realized I had taken up the gauntlet and his gaze moved down over my breasts and bare midriff. I wanted him to reach for me, to caress me, and I could feel my nipples peaking up against the thin material of the halter in anticipation. My readiness for him must have been obvious. Bo's breathing had deepened as he brought his gaze back to my face, swallowed, and murmured huskily, "Wild flowers. Braided into a garland and worn as a crown. Like a forest sprite."

The image of me as a forest nymph was so ludicrous that I couldn't suppress the giggle that burst forth. "Bo, you're drunk."

It broke the spell. "Not yet," he answered. "But I'm working on it." And he up-ended the can of Budweiser, chug-a-lugging it. After he had drained it, he wiped his mustache with the back of his arm, crushed the can one-handed, and emitted a satisfied belch. "Ahhhh.... Hey, baby, hand me another one of them Butt-Wipers."

Laurie stirred and opened one eye, giving him a pained look. "Wipe your own butt," she responded.

Bo shrugged good-naturedly and sat up to turn his attention to a particularly choice chopper motoring slowly along the road. "Panhead," he decided, referring to the type of Harley engine it had.

Laurie shook her head and went back to her dozing. I sat up, too, wondering what had gotten into me. For cripe's sake, what did I think he was going to do -- jump me right there in the park in front of God and his wife and everybody? I must be drunker than I thought. I wondered what he was feeling.

We sat silently for a while, just listening to the radio and watching the cars go by. The tune on the radio had changed to a rollicking beat. " _\--one toke over the line, sweet Jesus, one toke over the line. Sittin' downtown in the railway station, one toke over the line._ "

"Speaking of..." Bo muttered, doing a lazy reconnaissance as far as he could see up and down the park on all sides of us. Apparently satisfied with what he found, he reached into one of the pockets of his jeans and produced a hand-rolled cigarette. Pulling a Bic lighter from the other pocket, he lit the joint and took a long drag, holding the smoke in. When he finally exhaled, he smiled in bliss, "Oh, yeah, one toke over the line, sweet Jesus..."

He handed the roach to Laurie who took a hit and handed it back to him. He offered it to me. "Cyn?"

Nervously, I did my own reconnaissance. "For God's sake, Bo, you wanna get us busted? Get rid of that thing!"

"Come on, Cyn. You think we got the only joint out here?"

Sure enough, I could smell a hint of sweet, acrid smoke wafting through the air. "Oh, great, then we can all go to jail together."

Bo laughed and took another toke. He affected a glazed expression and a dull, totally stoned voice. "Oh, man... I played 'In-a-Gadda-Da-Vita' at 78 and I saw Gaahhd!"

Laurie giggled and reached to take the joint back for another drag. "Cyndi's just chicken," she said. "Always has been."

"I am not!" I protested rather lamely. "I just don't want my brain fried, that's all."

Laurie made clucking noises and I glared at her. Bo interceded. "Okay, Laurie, lay off. Cyndi's probably a lot smarter than the two of us." He turned to look at me again, smiling that captivating smile again. "I admire her for it."

We were interrupted by a long-haired girl who approached and handed each of us a mimeographed piece of paper. "Come to the peace rally next Saturday," she said. "Help end the war." Then she moved on to the next group of picnickers.

I looked over the flyer. "Are you two going?" I asked.

"No," Laurie answered, sounding annoyed. "What good will it do?"

"Yeah," said Bo, ignoring his wife and studying the paper. "Yeah, maybe I will... I've got more reason to protest than a lot of people."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"Because my brother was killed in Vietnam two years ago," he responded bitterly.

* * *

Lee Park was a favored hippie hangout in the early 70's and it was here that the peace demonstration was scheduled to begin. The crowd was already thick around the mounted bronze statue of Robert E. Lee as I mingled with the enlarging throng. A lot of kids I knew from college were there and we waved to each other. The march was planned to reach from here to the federal courthouse, a distance of a few miles or so, and we would chant peace slogans and distribute anti-war leaflets to anyone along the way. The march had been advertised in the underground papers and we were getting a sizeable turnout.

We were also getting a sizeable gathering of police officers who hung back with determined looks on their faces and no-nonsense clubs at their sides. Many were dressed in riot control gear and behind them were mounted officers. I didn't like the looks of it at all, but we were peaceful demonstrators. Surely, there wouldn't be any trouble. I smiled reassuringly at one officer; his scowl didn't soften a bit.

As we waited for the march to begin, somebody started singing and in a few minutes all the people around me were swaying, clapping and adding their voices to the rhythm. " _All we are saying is give peace a chance! All we are saying is give peace a chance!_ "

I felt in utter brotherhood with the people around me, many of them, like me, dressed in jeans or flowered bell bottoms, wearing peace symbols and love beads, headbands and sandals. Some had painted designs on their faces. Thinking of Bo, I had woven flowers into my hair, secured by my headband.

After a time, the march organizers began shaping the crowd into formation. We were a motley group -- hippies, gays, blacks, Hispanics, in a riot of colors and hairstyles. It was a happy group for the most part, because we were united in our goal. Signs appeared, chants and songs were joined, and the throng began to move down the boulevard.

Or at least it tried to. Almost immediately it was stopped by the bulwark of officers that stretched across the road, blocking the path of the marchers. The happy noise of the crowd began to change into one of agitation.

Behind the officers stood a police official with a bullhorn. "You people break it up and disperse. This is an illegal gathering and you are ordered to disperse."

A man up front shouted angrily back. "You can't stop this march! You're interfering with our constitutional right to peaceable assembly! Get out of the way!" The crowd behind him shifted and voiced agreement.

"I say again," the policeman retorted, unmoved. "You are ordered to disperse and return to your homes!"

"Pig!" another voice shouted from the crowd and others took up the chant. "Pig pig pig pig!"

The line of police stirred, hands on the nightsticks hanging from their belts. The riot officers snapped their faceplates down and the horses behind them moved restlessly.

"For the last time, break it up and move along!"

In the space between the marchers and the police, a bottle crashed into the pavement and shattered, and for the interval of a heartbeat, there was stunned silence. Then the line of officers charged forward with a roar.

Pandemonium erupted.

Almost as one, the demonstrators turned and scattered amidst screams and curses. The noise was incredible and I was swept along in the stampede of running bodies. Something exploded somewhere and the pitch of the screams rose. A choking fog began to drift over the crowd and people began to fall, retching.

I had no idea which direction I was headed. Panicked, my only thought was to get away, to run as far as I could. I couldn't see where I was going in the crowd and the curb caught my foot before I could register its existence. With blinding suddenness, I was on the ground, dazed, pounding feet all around me. Something inside me shouted to get up before I was trampled.

Something else was shouting at me, too. Someone else, I mean. Over the din of the crowd, I heard my name. Heard it several times before I could get my head clear enough to look around for its source and then I was being hauled to my feet by powerful tanned hands and hustled to a stumbling run by a big man in denims and boots.

It was Bo. He dragged me with him away from the melee and up the hill beside the park. A lot of people were taking the same route and we joined in their frantic flight, trampling asters and chrysanthemums in our headlong rush to escape. We crashed through the azalea bushes that backed the park to the street that ran behind it. On the other side was the parking lot of an office building and at the curb stood Bo's Harley. Before I could say anything, he was astride it and pulling me up behind him.

"You ever ridden one of these things?" he asked, standing the bike upright and knocking the kickstand back with the heel of his boot. I shook my head dumbly. "Just keep your feet up and hang on!"

He stood on the starter pedal and shoved his weight downward, and the powerful engine roared into life. As he settled into the saddle, I slipped my arms around his waist and nestled into his back, hanging on for dear life as he popped the clutch and took off with a jolt of exhaust and screaming pistons.

I didn't look up for quite some time, just swaying with him as we went around corners and trying not to knock him off balance with my awkwardness. Truth be told, I was scared to death, my senses numbed by everything that had happened so suddenly.

I must have been clutching his waist pretty tight because after a while, he eased the bike down to a cruise and patted my hand. "Relax," he said over his shoulder. "It's okay now. You're safe."

I raised my head and looked around, didn't recognize the neighborhood whipping past. "Where are we?" I shouted into the wind.

"Going down Live Oak," he answered. "We'll be home in a few minutes."

His home. The apartment he shared with Laurie. I loosened my grip on him a bit and didn't say anything else until he pulled into the parking lot of the complex and backed the bike into a parking space. After he shut off the engine, the silence seemed unnatural and my ears were still ringing.

He swung a leg over the Harley's gas tank and, as gallantly as any knight, offered me his hand to help me dismount. I swayed as I tried to stand upright and he caught me. "Whoa! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, a little dizzy."

"You hit the pavement pretty hard," he said. "Come on up and let me take a look."

I felt I should protest but I couldn't. I needed to rest and sort things out, so I let him escort me up the stairs and into the apartment. It was very quiet and I hesitated at the door. "Where's Laurie?"

"At work. She got a job down at the Jack in the Box. Gets off about 10:00." He shut the door and locked it, then strode off toward the bathroom. I stayed where I was and, after a moment, he came back to the living room and looked at me expectantly.

"I ... I don't think I should be here," I stammered.

Comprehension played over his face and he came back to stand before me. He studied me for a few seconds and his eyes softened. They were such wonderful eyes, crystal blue with dark lashes and thick dark brows. I had to close my own to keep from being lost in them.

He stroked a finger down the side of my face to get me to look back at him. "Don't be afraid, Cyndi," he asked softly. "I just want to help. I saw you fall down and you're hurt."

He took my arm and started me moving toward the bathroom where for the first time I saw in the mirror the damage done in the riot. My left cheek was abraded and dirty and there was a smear of blood on the left corner of my mouth. I hadn't even realized that I'd split my lip. My headband and flowers were gone.

Bo was wetting a washcloth under running water in the sink and he turned to me, holding my chin in his hand, surveying the destruction. Gently, with the lightest of touches, he dabbed at my mouth and cheek. I winced, for the feeling was rapidly flooding back.

"Okay, okay," he soothed, continuing with his ministrations. "I know it hurts, baby."

I started to tremble and then to cry, belated shock setting in. Without a second thought, he tossed the washcloth back into the sink and took me in his arms, holding me as I sobbed into his broad chest. There were so many emotions flooding through me that I couldn't untangle them -- anger, horror, disappointment, fear, confusion. I buried my face against him and drank in the smell of him, a thoroughly masculine smell that shook me to my toes. My ear against his chest, I could hear his heart pounding in tune with my own and, suddenly, I didn't want to let him go. I couldn't. I clutched him possessively, my fingers digging into his back, and felt his arms tighten around me in answer.

Lifting my face to his, I saw the intense, searching expression in his eyes mirror my own. Need throbbed through both of us and his breath came almost in a gasp as his whole body tensed and hardened in anticipation. He knew, as I did, that the moment had come. Now. _Now._

Lightning exploded between us as our lips came together, tongues fencing and dancing as we hungrily sought the other's mouth. Hands fumbled with clothing, bared flesh thrilled to touch and kiss, bodies sought to meld together in frenzied union.

I was groaning with eagerness as he swept me up into his arms and carried me into the bedroom.

* * *

It was incredible. I was a virgin again. The half-remembered encounter behind the football stadium had melted away to nothingness and I was new-made woman, opening myself for the first time to man. In sweet and frantic fusion, he filled me, again and again, our bodies moving as one toward soaring culmination, enflamed flesh kissed and caressed and brought to fruition in endless dizzying sensation. All that I had imagined during those lonely, aching nights in the dark, wondering what he would feel like hard against me, hard inside me, had come to reality, until at last with one last crashing paroxysm, we lay sated in sweaty, twisted sheets and listened to each other's slowing hearts.

Now I knew what it was like and it had shaken me to a depth I had never imagined existed. I lay studying his face, so close to mine on the pillow, so impossibly near. Strong jawline, straight nose, mustache nearly hiding soft, expressive lips. His eyebrows had a worry line crease between them and a little scar ran across his left cheek. There were reddish highlights in his dark brown hair that I had never noticed before.

I reached up to touch his face and he opened his eyes to look at me. I realized that I had always mentally placed a label on him -- tough biker, Angie's lover, Laurie's husband. It was to put a barrier between us that I could hide behind if I needed to, to keep from feeling what I was feeling now. But the barrier was down and pretenses no longer existed. I saw him as a woman sees a man, with souls bared and hearts open. We had joined in more than a physical way.

I snuggled into his shoulder and he pulled me near. For a moment, we just savored each other's presence, then I murmured, "I think you probably saved my life today."

He pulled back and looked back at me. "No, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"Well, anyway, thank you. Thank you for everything."

"When I saw you fall, I was afraid I wouldn't get to you in time."

We held each other for a long time and then I asked softly, "Bo, you said your brother was killed. How old was he?"

"Nineteen. He joined up right out of high school. I was a big disappointment to my father and grandfather because I didn't do the same. Instead, I stayed in college as long as I could manage it so I could get a deferment." Then I saw something flash over his face that I had never seen there before. Fear. "Cyndi, I've been managing to stay one step ahead of the draft board but I don't know how long I can manage it. My number is coming up. I can feel it. And when they get their hands on me, they'll send me overseas and ... and I don't want to come home in a body bag like Wayne did."

Tears sprang to my eyes and we clutched at each other in despair. I couldn't bear the thought of him being sent to Vietnam ... to certain death.

Finally, he pulled back and the soft searching expression came back into his eyes. "You are so incredibly beautiful," he whispered, stroking my cheek. "I thought so the very first time I saw you. Do you remember that night? It was just for a moment but you were like sunshine, so pure and innocent. You always have been. What in the world is someone like you doing with Laurie?"

I ducked my head and felt suddenly ashamed. "Laurie... Oh, God..."

"Shhh..." He lifted my chin. "It's just this once and it won't happen again." My heart constricted at that but he continued, "Sometimes people need each other and circumstances throw them together and it happens. I love you, Cyn, more than I can say, but it's got to be the only time." He kissed me and drew me closer to him, and I responded in answering urgency, feeling his body stir against me. "Love me, Cyndi," he whispered between kisses. "Once more, one last time before it's over."

* * *

It was dark when we stepped outside the apartment. Had the afternoon and early evening really passed as we had made love? The events earlier in the day seemed a thousand years gone. We went down the stairs to his bike and he took me back through the moonlit streets to where I had left my car that day. Again I nestled into his back, the wind whipping my hair into tangles, but this time my feelings were bittersweet. I wanted to memorize the feel, the scent of him, to hold something of him within me that was mine alone. I wondered if his child was forming inside me.

His tangible presence now before me, my legs still spread and hugging his thighs, the steady vibration of the Harley's engine excited me almost beyond endurance. I groaned and rubbed my cheek against his back.

I felt him laugh and he squeezed my hand where it lay against his belt buckle. "Now, now," he scolded. "You may not be tired, but _I_ am! You about wore me out!"

I backed off a bit and mentally called my feelings back into check. "Sorry," I answered over the roar of the engine. "I can't help it."

He chuckled and patted my hand again then turned his attention back to the road. It didn't take long to go back across town to the site of the demonstration and he slowed the bike down as we looked for my car. I wasn't sure we'd find it. It had probably been towed.

But there it was under a street light, just where I'd left it, looking forlorn as it waited in the empty parking lot. Bo pulled the Sportster up beside it and cut the engine. He helped me off and I fished in the pocket of my jeans for the car keys. I had stuffed my purse back up under the front seat so I wouldn't have to bother with it, but kept the keys with me. Miraculously, I hadn't lost them in the stampede.

After I got the door opened and determined that my pocketbook was still safe where I had left it, I turned back to Bo to say goodbye. He gathered me in his arms again and pressed a kiss against my mouth that left me breathless. When he finally lifted his head, but still held me, he said, "I'll follow you home to make sure you get there okay."

"Will you come in when we get there?" I asked, against hope.

He hesitated. "We'll see," he replied but I knew he meant _no_. It wasn't an answer I wanted to hear. I wasn't sure it was one I was prepared to accept.

He kissed me again, not as intensely as before, but with a finality to it. "Go on now," he said. "It's late." A last kiss and he released me, stepping back.

I had no choice but to slide behind the wheel of my car and he closed the door with a solid thunk. Through the window, he gestured to the lock and I obediently pressed the knob down, then, still gazing up at him through the window, I turned the key and listened as the Dart's engine started up.

Bo moved away as I put the car in gear, steering it toward the exit. Behind me in the rear view mirror, I saw him mount the Sporty and kick it into life, then follow me out.

When we reached my apartment, he pulled up near my car but not close enough to speak. As I got out, his closed expression made it clear that goodbyes had been said and I lifted my hand to him, then went to the door. He sat watching me until I had the door open, then did a u-turn in the parking lot and roared off into the night. I stood listening until I could no longer hear the Harley's voice singing on the evening wind.

* * *

I awoke the next morning wrapped in a cloud of warmth, remembering his lips, his arms, the power of his body moving above me. Was this what Janis had meant about never quite remembering an orgasm, but never forgetting it either? I didn't see how I could possibly forget. And I now understood all the things Laurie had said so long -- only a year? -- ago.

But the dream faded in the cold light of day and the reality of bruised flesh made itself known, on my face and between my legs. And in my soul, bruised there most of all because I knew it could never be again.

I arose and went to the bathroom, wincing as I saw my left cheek and lip swollen and discolored. I looked like I'd taken a hard punch. Downing an aspirin, I wandered into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Debbie's door was still closed. She hadn't come in until late last night.

I was pondering between cereal or toast when a knock sounded on the front door. This early on a Sunday morning? Who could--

And I knew. My heart pounding, I turned the knob and saw her standing on the step, face white and strained, eyes red. The horror and guilt on my own face precluded any pretense of innocence.

"You bitch," she breathed and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "You goddamn, fucking bitch."

"Laurie, please, I can explain..."

"How could you do this to me? How could you think I wouldn't know?" She was shaking in her fury and I backed away from her. "The goddamn sheets were still wet when I got home!"

"How ... how did you know it was me?" I asked tremulously.

In answer, she reached into her purse and pulled out the silver friendship bracelet she had given me on my last birthday. I'd forgotten I'd been wearing it and my face paled as I realized I'd left it on the bedside table.

"Next time you fuck somebody's husband, be sure you remove all the evidence!" she spat and flung it on the floor.

"Laurie, I'm so sorry! Please, believe me, it was an accident--"

"An accident?!" she repeated incredulously. "Getting into somebody's bed and screwing her husband half to death is an _accident_?!"

"What did he tell you?" I quavered.

"Enough," she answered coldly. "He couldn't deny it. But he's not your concern. I'll deal with Bo." She stepped closer, her eyes shooting sparks, forcing me to back up once more. "I'm curious, though. Why did you do it? Not that I hadn't seen how you looked at him whenever you were together. You practically drooled every time he came into the room."

"Laurie, please, I didn't mean it. It'll never happen again."

"You bet your sweet life it'll never happen again. But why? I want to know."

I swallowed and desperately tried to think of an answer. "I don't know, Laurie. Please, you've got to believe me. It just ... happened." Something in my memory stirred and I seized on it. "Do you remember the night Janis Joplin died and I came over to your house?"

"I ought to. It's the night I met Bo," she replied frigidly. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Well, you were talking about lonely people and about how they're just looking for something they can't find? I think it must have been something like that, Laurie. Please, understand. I'm not trying to take Bo away from you. I never meant for this to happen."

She regarded me with hate-filled eyes for a long moment then snorted in disgust. "You pathetic little slut. You couldn't possibly take Bo away from me. You haven't even grown up yet. You don't know anything." A hard, triumphant little smile tilted the corners of her mouth. "Did he tell you I'm pregnant?" she asked.

My knees buckled under me and I collapsed weakly, my eyes filling with tears. "Oh, God, Laurie! I'm so sorry! If I'd known--"

"What? You only fuck men whose wives aren't pregnant?" She regarded me stonily then stated in a voice that brooked no dissent, "I don't ever want to see you again, Cyndi. Don't call, don't write, don't show your fucking face at my door again. And if I ever find out you've been seeing Bo -- I'll kill you."

She swung around and marched toward the door. There, she paused and looked contemptuously back at me. "And that lonely people bit's the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard."

As she opened the door to leave, I said softly, "Laurie? Janis would have understood."

"Probably," she answered without looking at me, her hand on the knob. "But I don't." And the door slammed behind her.

 

THE END

 


End file.
